Winter's Hearth
by Zurn
Summary: Uchiha Itachi -born of fire- sacrificed his humanity for the honor of his family, and for the sake of his younger brother, Sasuke. Queen Elsa -forged in ice- sacrificed her freedom for the safety of her kingdom, and of her younger sister, Anna. They sacrificed themselves for the sake of the greater good, but will they have the courage to sacrifice everything, for each other?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Drifting through the abyss, the complete darkness, he couldn't help but feel sad. The sins he committed in life, against humanity and against those he cherished above all else, were haunting him even in death. It was a fitting punishment, he supposed.

Perhaps he had hoped, deep beneath the layers of iron walls he made for himself, that he would be forgiven. That perhaps the infinite consciousness of the Universe would see that he had suffered enough, enduring true agony for the sake of the whole. But the Universe, he found, had no concept of mercy. For in death, a person was supposed to simply not exist. Sleep, that's what death was; nothingness, an eternal pardon from the pain of sentience. So why was the pain still there? Why could he still think?

Suddenly, a faint glow appeared above him. In death, he had no bearing, save for the voice in his head, if he even had a head. It could be that he was nothing more than the thoughts of some once-living fool, spreading out slowly toward the stars.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Though the faint glow above him was as dim as a moon a trillion-trillion miles away, in the black of death it was as if his eyes had exploded with light.

"Don't recognize me?" asked the faint glow.

His eyes, or what he thought were his eyes, focused in on the glow. It was small, no bigger than his own head. Then he realized the glow had a face. The details were blurred, but there was a definite shape about it. Where eyes were supposed to be, he could make out milky outlines. The denser light in the center could have been its nose, and its mouth was curved into an undeniable smile. There were even strands of subtle light surrounding the glow like a jumble of overgrowing vines: hair.

"You're Uchiha Itachi," he said to the glow.

The glow laughed.

"Wrong," it said, having itself an amused giggle, "_you're_ Uchiha Itachi."

"Then I am dead."

"Yes, you are," said the glow, "but not gone."

"Why?" said Itachi, beginning to feel more of himself.

_Feel_.

He was becoming aware. Faintly, he could feel stiff fingers, then coldness against his skin.

"Good question," said the glow. "Maybe your story isn't finished. Existence is weird sometimes like that."

He could feel his eyes blink, but how could he if he had no eyelids?

"I've fulfilled my destiny, I just want to rest now," said Itachi, an undeniable pulse surging from his beating heart through the rest of his body.

He saw the glow's pseudo-mouth turn into a frown.

"You mortals, so obsessed with things like _destiny_ and _fate_. Such things don't exist. The Universe doesn't care what you tiny squishy things do in your hilariously finite lives."

"Then does the Universe care about evil and good?" asked Itachi. "It is said that the good are rewarded in death with sleep ever-lasting. But I do not sleep. Am I wicked? Is it true, then, that the wicked are punished not in an eternal prison of fire and pain, but in a gentle, flowing stream? A stream void of all stimuli? They say the wicked cannot move, for they have no body. All go mad in this place of terrible calm; the pain they caused in the living world replayed in their minds until the end of time. They can't even scream."

"Hell, Heaven, none of it exists," said the being, "and yet, they all exist, but that is for another time. It's time for you to go, it seems like the living world just can't get enough of you."

"What do you mean?" asked Itachi, "did another shinobi cast Edo Tensei?"

"No, I'm afraid not, seems like you're going to a different realm."

"Different realm? Different from the Shinobi world?"

"Of course," said the being, "There are an infinite amount of worlds, each one like a stream flowing to the ocean of death. Streams intertwine and become rivers, even if the fish living in those streams are unaware of it. All sentience dies and comes here. That doesn't mean all Life comes from the same place. And it doesn't mean souls like you return to the same Life."

"Who summons me to this realm?"

"That, I do not know," said the being, "I am simply an observer."

Itachi could feel a stinging cold against him now, but not an empty coldness. It was a flowing frost, coursing over his body like a deep wind. And it was wet.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Itachi, who could now definitely feel the muscles in his neck twitching.

"Again,"said the glowing being, "I'm not taking you anywhere, I'm just observing."

"Then who?" asked Itachi, and he thought for a moment that he could _smell_.

"Well, you are, of course. _No one_can bring the dead back," said the glow, "the dead choose it for themselves."

"I don't want to go anywhere, least of all back to life. I just want to rest," said Itachi.

"You are an intriguing mortal, Uchiha Itachi," said the glow, and Itachi saw that the glow began to fade away, as if it were floating up into the incalculable dark. "A soul that wants to stay dead, but absolutely refuses to."

The glow vanished.

Instantly, Itachi began to feel an unpleasant sensation across his very solid form. His arms and legs were alive again, but refused to follow his direction. His lungs worked furiously for breath, but there was no air in the dead space.

His eyes shut as a symphony of shattering glass erupted all around. The cold wetness swept across him as heat pierced his insides, ready to boil his organs and blast steam out of his body. Itachi couldn't take another second of it. Willing the entire force behind his being, he thrust his arm forward, or up, or whatever the hell direction he was punching, and opened his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

The sky was a glorious blue and glistened with the Sun's light shimmering across its expanse. Itachi's ears felt full and his hearing distorted as if he were encased in static. He bobbed from side to side as like a drifting log.

He felt the river rushing past his body, gently nudging him deeper into the muddy soot of a bank. The water was unbearably cold, but the trees around him displayed their green hues proudly. Either he was somewhere far north, or this land had recently escaped the grasp of winter and headed for spring. Or both.

"Alive, again," he whispered, staring at his raised fist.

_What happened to the glow? Where is the darkness? Why?_

"Father! Father! Someone's in the river!"

Itachi heard shuffling feet race toward him, followed by a pair of thumps as two people leapt down the embankment and onto the muddy shore.

Itachi lowered his arm, letting it fall into the water.

_Too weak to even stand up. Pathetic. I shouldn't be alive. _

A plump, short man dropped down to his knees and stuck his face right into Itachi's.

"Sir, sir are you injured?!" the fat little man asked.

He had a full head of bushy brown hair, and an even bushier moustache that threatened to rub against Itachi's forehead.

"Water," Itachi whispered.

The man nodded hastily. "Daniel, give me the waterskin."

The little boy snatched the leather pouch off his belt and handed it to his father.

"Here you go, Sir!" said the man has he lifted Itachi's head.

The man poured chilled water down into Itachi's mouth. He barely had enough strength to part his lips, but felt the icy liquid flood into his throat almost at once. He choked, and coughed the excessive out, spitting it across the old man's face.

"Sorry," Itachi groaned.

"No problem, Sir," said the man as he wiped away the water with a kerchief. "Can you stand?"

"I'm not, I'm not sure," stuttered Itachi.

He had never felt so weak in his life before. Even during his fight against Sasuke, or when his Sharingan drained him of chakra, he was able to manage the pain through pure force of will. But now, he felt like a wounded animal, helpless and vulnerable.

"If you want to get out of this river, son, you need to use your legs," said the old man, who was still supporting Itachi's head. "I'm not as strong as I used to be, and my boy is too thin."

"No I'm not!" decried the boy.

"Of course, thank you," sighed Itachi.

Itachi sat upright, and instantly a storm of pain burst throughout his body. All of his back muscles revolted against him at once, twisting in sharp spasms. Itachi slammed his teeth into his tongue, gagging on the scream that forced itself up from the pit of his stomach.

"The river did a number on you," said the old man as he helped Itachi to his feet.

"Maybe," replied Itachi, reeling from the hurt now racing through his legs.

With great difficulty, the man and his son helped Itachi up the embankment. With every step the pain shot through Itachi's whole body, but became duller and duller every moment. The man led the group to their campsite. They had a wooden wagon filled with barrels and other packaged items, two horses that wandered the campsite nibbling on the fresh grass, and a fire-pit with a pile of twigs and neatly cut logs on the side.

"It's not much," said the man, drooping to the fire and warming his hands, "but we don't need much as we'll be back on the road by tomorrow morning."

"We sleep under the wagon," said the boy, offering Itachi a log to sit on.

Itachi thanked the boy, and stumbled onto the log.

"Daniel, prepare the rabbit," said the man.

"Yes, father," replied Daniel, running off and disappearing behind the wagon.

"Thank you, again," said Itachi, staring over the fire toward the man, "for helping me."

The man didn't reply, instead coughing as if to clear his throat.

"Well," the man started, "truthfully, these roads are perilous for the next fortnight. I was horrified my boy had come across a dead body instead of someone living."

_A dead body wasn't far from the truth._

"Perlious?" asked Itachi, "bandits?"

The man nodded.

"Name's Roy, by the way," the man offered.

"I am Uchiha Itachi," Itachi said.

"Uh, say again?" asked Roy.

"_E-Taa-Chee,"_ Itachi said again, pronouncing slowly.

"Well, Itachi," said Roy, pronouncing the name with a bit of an accent, "you're obviously not from around here."

"No, I'm not," replied Itachi.

Daniel returned, carrying a single sharpened stick and a freshly skinned rabbit.

"Well done, son," said Roy, taking the rabbit and stick. He jammed the stick through the rabbit, and held it over the fire, rotating the rabbit around so that it cooked evenly and didn't burn on any sides.

Daniel went over to Itachi and sat down next to him. Itachi smiled and looked at the boy, who watched him with a curious glint in his eyes.

"Yes?" asked Itachi. The boy went a slight pink and diverted his eyes past Itachi's own.

The pain ceased with every passing second, replaced instead by a dull soreness.

"He's never seen a Silkman before," said Roy, twisting and turning the rabbit with the vigor of someone twenty years younger.

"_Silkman?_" asked Itachi.

"Well, you are a Silkman aren't you?" asked the boy named Daniel, now staring deep into Itachi's own eyes. "You know, people from the Silk Country? They have black hair, and yellow skin and dark brown eyes that look like the crescent Moon! My father says it's rare for them to come so far north to trade their goods. I couldn't believe it myself when I saw you."

Itachi considered himself for a moment. He remembered the words of his reflection (_it doesn't mean souls like you return to the same Life_) and knew that this wasn't the world of the Shinobi. He was a dead man in a strange land. It would be best to not reveal himself completely.

"Yes, I am," said Itachi, smiling softly at Daniel, whose grinned grew wider than his face could hope to support.

"I knew it," said Daniel, "are you a merchant? Have you come all this way for the wedding?"

"Enough, son," said Roy as he took the rabbit off the flame, "the man must be starving, let's eat!"

The rabbit was roasted to perfection, its fatty grease dripping down on the stale bread in Itachi's wooden bowl. Roy and Daniel ate voraciously, minding no one but themselves, while Itachi moved the rabbit leg to his mouth the way a calligrapher stroked his quill, or a swordsman's danced with his blade.

When the rabbit was gone, and the remaining bits of bread were being pecked at by sparrows, the three individuals sat around the fire in quiet contemplation. Roy had a mug of ale, which he tried offering to Itachi at first but who declined, while Daniel played with a figurine-knight wilted from a piece of wood.

Itachi stared into the fire, his mind working furiously.

_How long have I been dead? What happened to Sasuke and the others? If I'm alive, I should be there assisting him and Naruto._

Suddenly, a dangerous, terrible thought came to him.

"Sharingan!" he shouted as he bolted up from the log, scaring Daniel and causing Roy to spill ale all over his shirt.

"What?!" spluttered Roy.

Itachi looked at Daniel, and saw a tremendous fear take over the boy's face.

_Calm yourself, you must look rabid. _He thought.

"I'm sorry," said Itachi, smiling gently at Daniel, "I was just thinking about something."

"Damn, you scared the ale right out of me," said Roy, slurping the remainder of his drink in one gulp.

Itachi bent over to Daniel, who was watching him curiously, and said, "Daniel, my eyes, how do they look?"

Dainel stared at him quizzically.

"Umm, let's see," said Daniel, studying Itachi's eyes, "they're white on the outside, and really dark on the inside, black almost."

"Could you hand me a mirror?" asked Itachi.

"You won't find a mirror on us," said Roy, standing up, "but this should work."

He tossed Itachi an aluminum plate, which (thankfully) Itachi caught effortlessly. As Daniel had said, his eyes were normal: dark brown and white.

_No sharingan? Is that the only thing I'm missing?_

"Thank you," said Itachi, sitting back down, and patting Daniel on the head.

Daniel gave him an unsure look for half a second, and smiled. He returned to his knight figurine, but neither Itachi nor Roy relaxed again.

That night, when the embers of the fire glowed dim and Roy and Daniel retired under the wagon, Itachi stole off into the trees.

"_KATON: GŌKAKYŪ NO JUTSU!"_

Itachi clasped his hands together and blew just above his skyward fingers, but nothing happened.

"_KATON: HŌSENKA NO JUTSU!"_

Nothing. No great wave of fire, no surging chakra running through his chakra pathways.

"KATON—"

"Is that a prayer?"

Itachi dropped his hands and turned toward Roy. The old man was standing with the nightly woods in the backdrop.

"Yes," lied Itachi.

"Awfully loud prayer," said Roy, as he walked toward Itachi.

"I apologize if I awoke you," said Itachi, bowing his head.

"Ah, no, I wasn't sleeping yet," said Roy, tapping mindlessly at the pommel of a sheathed dagger on his belt, "truth be told, I was sort of spying on you."

Itachi knew that already. When he didn't speak, Roy continued on.

"When my boy found you in the water, alive, you became my problem, a problem that may very well slit me and my boy's throat while we sleep."

"A just concern," said Itachi in a neutral tone, "I swear I will do no such thing."

"I figured as much," said Roy as he stepped up Itachi. While Itachi was a full head taller than the old man, he felt no discernable strength in his limbs and Roy had a dagger and years of manual labor buried in his muscles. Still, if it came to it, Itachi was quicker than lightning.

"For one thing, you're not from this country. That's obvious," said Roy, "but you're also not a Silkman. You might be of their people, but you're no merchant. If you were, you would have already tried to acquire some sort of currency from me, whether it be gold or otherwise. On credit, of course."

"How did you come to that?" asked Itachi, who was frankly curious about where this was headed, although he suspected where it would end.

"Because I'm a merchant as well, doesn't matter which nation we come from or who our ancestors might be, all merchants are the same. We _need_ coin."

Itachi nodded.

"Because of the princess's wedding, there are merchants and traders coming from all parts of the world. Of course they'll offer gifts to the royal couple, but then they'll find their fortunes in the markets. That's where Daniel and I are headed, and an old man and his boy are very easy pickings for some people."

Roy was no longer the kindly old man that offered Itachi ale and food. He was speaking slyly, with his words weighed and calculated with every syllable.

"I will not rob you," said Itachi, "you and your son fed me, and took me out of that frigid river where I would have died. For me to rob my saviors, would forsake me to an eternity of torment."

Roy studied Itachi, and Itachi allowed it. The old man's hand moved away from the pommel of his dagger up toward his moustache, where his fingers twisted the stringy hair around themselves.

"That's what I hoped," said Roy finally, "and that's why I have something to ask you."

Itachi remained still as Roy moved over to a tree, where he leaned his old body on.

"Like I said earlier, Daniel and I are vulnerable. I never suspected you of being a bandit. What sort of idiot would travel thousands of miles to rob old men and their wee-sons for a little gold? Not worth it, I'd be more worried coming across my own countrymen then someone like you. But you're also not a silkman; there's not an inch of business savvy in your body."

Itachi would agree to that. He was soldier, a spy, an assassin, a genius, but a businessman he was not. That realm belonged to someone like Kakuzu.

"So what would a silkman, who's not really a silkman, being doing all the way up here if he has nothing to trade or sell?" asked Roy.

"Why indeed?" replied Itachi.

"It's because you're an adventurer, a guard _for_ silkmen. And by the looks of you, you guarded a very rich silkman."

It was true, Itachi wore a robe of fine black silk. It was the same robe he wore while in Akatsuki, the organization comprised of the worst and most powerful of shinobi criminals. The transfer to this world from the Shinobi world hadn't brought with him his eyes or his chakra, but apparently saw fit to keep him clothed.

"That's right," lied Itachi, the same way he had been lying his entire life, "I was a guard for an extremely wealthy merchant. He had over a dozen horses, and six wagons full of foreign goods. Silk, spices, ornaments of wonderful design, medicines of great healing power, and rarities worth more than royalty."

Itachi saw Roy's eyes widen even in the dim light of the Moon.

"But," continued Itachi, "my caravan was ambushed by bandits (anguish crept over Roy's expression) and we were slaughtered. There were eight of us in all: five guards, the merchant, and his two sons. The highwaymen must have numbered in the dozens."

"What happened to your employer's goods?" asked Roy, without a single hint of greed or desire.

"We were ambushed on a bridge. The horses panicked and fled right over the edge. Four wagon-loads gone to the river's current, along with the horses. I don't know what happened to the last one," explained Itachi.

"And your company?"

"Dead, probably rotting on a bridge miles upriver from here."

Itachi's lie was so complete, so detailed, that Roy's mind had already accepted it as truth before Itachi had ever spoken.

"Yet you survived," said Roy. He got up from the tree and began strolling back to the camp.

"I did," and it was with simple sentence that rattled Itachi more than anything else.

_I survived. But what did I survive?_ _Why am I alive?_

Roy stopped just at the edge of the trees.

"As payment for the services my son and I provided for you, Itachi, I ask only this; that you accompany us to capital city's gates, so that we may be safe from those who would rob and murder us for what little we have."

"I will not leave my saviors to the fangs of wolves. I will accompany you to the gates of your city. But I don't know how capable I am of defending you and your son, as I have already failed one employer. And I am unarmed."

Roy chuckled. He turned to Itachi and tossed him a shadowy, thin object. Itachi caught it as effortlessly as an eagle catches a leaping fish in its talons.

"My spare dagger," said Roy, "I always keep it at my back."

Itachi unsheathed the dagger. It was larger than a kunai, but nearly as light. It was perfect.

"As for you failing your previous employer," said Roy, who had restarted his trek back to the wagon, "no one can blame you for losing out against such numbers. It's not like you have the powers the queen has."

"Queen?" Itachi asked.

"Yes, of course!" shouted Roy back to Itachi, "the Snow Queen of Arendelle!"


	3. Chapter 3

For the past fortnight, the castle had been filled with songs and people. Although the wedding wasn't for another week, Royal guests had already begun to arrive. Elsa managed all the preparations while her sister Anna enjoyed the last days of her maidenhood touring the countryside. Princes and Princesses from the South were quartered in the East Wing, where they had easy access to the Royal Gardens. Being so far north made them miss the tropical climates of their homelands, and so Elsa ordered specific types of plants that helped them feel more at home. High lords were housed in the West Wing, where they were just a couple of steps away from food and drink (particularly Arendelle Mead). Guests who came on ship stayed in their well-furnished cabins, although the Castle provided them with all the amenities they required (especially Arendelle Mead).

Elsa sat at her royal desk made of polished oak and gold trimming. The legs were solid gold adorned with pearls right from the surrounding water, and the wise words of former kings and queens of Arendelle were stamped into almost every surface of it in the form of intricate silver letterings.

A pile of royal decrees sat at one corner of the desk, awaiting Elsa's final command. But those would have to wait as she flipped through the many dozens of pages of wedding details.

"This wedding is going to cost us more gold than we made all year, Olaf," said Elsa, her face stricken.

In the corner of the room, roasting a marshmallow in the hearth using his own arm as the spit, was a magically sentient snowman. A miniature cloud hung above him at all times, showering his body and replenishing it with the refreshing coolness of snowflakes. He looked when Elsa spoke, and a cheery grin stretched across his snow-white face.

"Yay!" Olaf said, before returning his attention back to the marshmallow.

"It's nothing to celebrate, Olaf," said Elsa as she reclined into her study chair, which was tall and made from thousands of feathers packed into fine silken velvet. "There's better things we can spend our people's gold on than a wedding."

"I know," said Olaf. The marshmallow began to ooze off of his fingers. He took it from out of the fire and blew on it until it cooled. "But it's a royal wedding, of course it's going to cost a lot of gold."

Olaf took the marshmallow and jabbed at it with his still-attached arm. When he felt content with his work, he tossed the marshmallow behind him where a pile of uneaten, cooked marshmallows laid on a flat sled.

"But does it have to cost _this_ much?" asked Elsa, more to herself than to Olaf.

"I don't know," said Olaf, who was trying to stick his arm back into his body, "that's for the Queen to figure out."

_Of course it is._

Just then, heavy hands pounded on the study's door.

"Queen Elsa! Queen Elsa!" shouted a voice from behind.

Alarmed, Elsa stood from her desk to her full, royal height.

"Come, what is the meaning of this?!"

The doors swung open, revealing a large man armored in shimmering, thick steel-plate. His face was a collection of scars, but young and beautiful. His eyes were a deep blue and as large as opals, while his jaw was chiseled beneath his dimpled cheeks.

"Sir Leif?!" said Elsa, as the knight fell to one knee. He held his helm in one hand, while his other rested on the hilt of his sheathed sword. His long blonde hair flowed with pure elegance down to his broad shoulders.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," said the young Knight as he kept his head bowed and his gaze down, "but there is urgent news from the countryside."

"Olaf, leave at once," said Elsa, her voice palpable with the royal power inherent in her.

"Okay," said Olaf.

The snowman walked over to the pile of marshmallows, grabbed the ropes of the sled, and dragged the mound of roasted sweets along as he exited the Queen's study. The knight got to his feet and shut the door behind Olaf.

"What news do you have, Sir Leif?"

"Only this," and the knight strolled past the large desk right up to his queen, and pressed his lips to hers.

Elsa felt the knight's gleaming armor connect with her silk gown, and trembled as his thick arms wrapped around her petite frame. The harder the knight pressed his lips against the queen, Elsa pressed forward with twice as much vigor. After what seemed like an eternity of passionate embrace, Elsa pushed herself away from the handsome knight.

"Is that all the news you have for me?" said Elsa, smiling at Leif as she gazed into his brilliant sparkling eyes.

"The only urgent news, yes," said Sir Leif, who grabbed Elsa and tried to pull her back.

"Then what other news?" said Elsa, resisting Sir Leif feebly.

"Nothing much, this and that," Elsa pecked him on the lips, "citizens pouring into the city for the wedding," Elsa rubbed her palm across Sir Leif's face, "border activity", Leif caressed Elsa's back with a single finger, "bandits attacking travelers."

"What?!"

This time, Elsa firmly shoved herself away from the knight's hold.

"Where? Who? What are the details, Sir Captain?"

Sir Leif frowned, but Elsa didn't care. He knew that when the queen spoke to him formally, that she had lost her desire for intimacy.

"Along the Gentle Road," said Sir Leif with as much enthusiasm as Elsa had for wedding costs, "two merchants have been killed, another dozen have been robbed, and that's only the ones who have reported to the Queen's Patrol."

Elsa flopped onto her study chair.

_Two dead. Another dozen robbed._

"Do you have any leads on the criminals?" asked Elsa, not looking up at the knight.

"Yes," said Sir Leif, pausing briefly, uncertainly, "we think the Majesty's Mourners are responsible."

A sickness stabbed her heart. She felt the burning gaze of Sir Leif upon her, begging her to not feel the way she did. But how could she do as he wished? What Anna wished? It was impossible. Beads of sweat poured from her crown of platinum hair, slipping down her smooth pale forehead and into her sapphire eyes. It stung, but she never blinked.

"These brigands are responsible for their own crimes," said Sir Leif after a long and vicious silence, "you cannot keep blaming yourself—"

"You will never presume to tell your Queen what she can and cannot do again, ever. Do you understand, Captain?" said Elsa, her voice seething with venom.

She stared up at Sir Leif. For a single moment he was stiff with anger, his face stricken with shock, and his eyes gutted by sorrow. But all at once, his training and duty swirled around him, and Sir Leif bowed. His head ducked lower than possible, and his arms were pressed tightly against his chest.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, I do not know my place," said Sir Leif in his most apologetic tone.

"Arise Sir Leif," said Elsa, tentatively, "I did not mean to, I'm sorry, Leafy."

Sir Leif rose as he was commanded to do so.

"Come here," said Elsa, and Sir Leif came at once.

"I know I am your Queen, but I am also _your _Elsa, sometimes it is _I_ who forgets—"

Sir Leif bent down and pressed his lips to Elsa's who received it immediately.

When they parted, Sir Leif stood to his full height and said,

"No, you're absolutely right. I must never forget that you are my Queen first and foremost, even if we were to, well–"

Sir Leif paused, blushing too madly to continue.

"_Be what_?" asked Elsa, excitedly as her pale skin flushed a dark pink.

"Well, if we were to wed."

Both Queen Elsa and Sir Leif lips trembled as they tried to contain their ever-growing grins.

"You don't have to do this, Your Majesty," said Sir Leif.

Elsa stood in Market Square, the central hub of the great city of Arendelle. Around her, saddled in their armored steeds, were the Queen's Guardians. Ten knights flanked her on both sides, including Sir Leif. Behind her were an additional fifty men, all part of the Queen's Patrol. These men were cavalry as well; some being knights, others proven swords, but none anointed to the Guardians. Elsa herself stood on her own two feet, as a large crowd of Arendelle citizens and foreign visitors gathered around.

"Queen Elsa!" shouted a woman.

"Your Majesty!" roared a group of men.

"I will not sit idle as bandits raid my kingdom, Captain," whispered Elsa through gritted teeth. "You forget that my sister, your _princess_, is travelling the countryside with only Lord Kristoff and a handful of Knights to guard her."

"That is why you have the Queen's Patrol," said Sir Leif, bending as low as he dared in order for Elsa to hear him. "You are the Queen, you should stay here, where it's safe."

"I am the last person in Arendelle who needs walls and guards to feel safe," replied Elsa acidly.

Sir Leif was about to reply, when Elsa walked toward the gathering of Arendelle citizens. There had been no prior warning to the city or anyone for that matter of the Queen's presence, no official annoucement. When Sir Leif made to leave the Queen's study, she followed suit, decreeing that she would see to the bandits herself. As a result, only the people who had already been in Market Square trading and bartering that morning were present to see the Queen and her men.

"My great, great people," Elsa shouted, "there are men in the wilderness of Arendelle who believe they are entitled to the wealth of other citizens. Hardworking people who struggle, as you do, to make something for themselves and their families. They rob, they pillage, they even torment and kill."

A chorus of angry yells pierced the marketplace.

"I, your Queen, and the brave men with me, shall bring the Queen's Justice to them!"

Cheers shattered the air.

"An offense against the citizens of Arendelle is an offense to the Queen of Arendelle herself! And I do not take offenses lightly!"

The merchants and citizens roared with applause. Sir Leif jutted his horse forward and yelled,  
>"Fetch the Queen's steed! We go hunting today!"<p>

This time, the Queen's men roared with excitement, but Elsa raised her hand to Sir Leif.

"I have my own steed," she said.

Elsa thrust her hand toward the sky. Sir Leif's horse almost dismounted him as a torrent of snow and wind blasted all around the soldiers, creating a twister of cold around Elsa. She rose six feet into the air as shards of frost formed beneath her. The entirety of the marketplace watched in awe as the shards condensed and reshaped into the form of a silvery horse, composed entirely of magical ice.

Without another word, Elsa kicked her feet into the sides of her icy steed. The horse reared on its hind legs, screeching like a blizzard, and bolted through the marketplace.

"With the Queen!" shouted Sir Leif.

The men roared as they followed Sir Leif's example and chased after Elsa, whose horse left behind snowy footprints at every step. Elsa rode through the streets of Arendelle, the buildings made of the strong but beautiful lumber of the surrounding mountain trees. She passed the Blacksmith Quarter, where the fires that made Arendelle Steel had just been lit for the day's work. The Glistening District was an area of the city where high end products were sold to the nobles and elites, but none of the shops were yet open. Past the Glistening Disctrict, the smells of freshly baking bread and the songs of bards enticed travelers into inns. That was the end of the inner capital, where coin was plentiful.

Elsa now raced through the poorer districts of her city. Drunkards and whores lay where they fell asleep on the street, their stomachs full of wine and fish.

"Olaf!" Elsa shouted.

At the Orphanage, a group of children danced around the snowman as he handed out the roasted marshmallows.

"Hi, Queen Elsa!" Olaf returned, "where are you going?!"

"Bandit hunting!"

"Oh okay, have fun!" Olaf shouted back as the children stared in awe at the blitzing ice horse.

_Oh, I will._

Elsa raced across the Gentle Road, a flowing trail of snow following her path. The Queen's men were far behind, their living steeds unable to match the speed of Elsa's magic.

The road cut through the forest, where thick evergreens made seeing into the brush nearly impossible. Elsa's royal robe flapped in the wind from the sheer speed they were travelling, whipping her face like a jealous lover. She was nearly ten miles away from the gates of Arendelle, but had seen nothing but flickering shadows in the trees.

"Milady!"

Just beyond Elsa's trajectory, a young woman covered in the stains of desperation sprinted toward her. She was running from the smoldering remains of an upturn carriage, bodies strewn about on the road.

_Damnit! _Elsa thought.

The woman's dress was covered in dirt and fresh blood, her light-brown hair waving erratically behind her as she stumbled toward Elsa.

"Milady!" the woman shouted one more time before finally falling to the ground in a heap of exhausted flesh.

Elsa reared her steed and stopped a few yards from the woman. She dismounted with ease and the moment she landed on her feet, she sprang toward the fallen citizen.

"What happened here?!"

Elsa grabbed the woman and raised her to her chest.

"Who did-"

"Shut up."

Elsa felt the cold steel prick her neck. A drop of blood skirted down the blade and onto the woman's hand. Elsa looked down, and found not the terrified victim just moments ago, but instead the calculating, wicked face of a con-woman.

"Good work, Marie."

From out of the blackness of the trees came rushing feet and wrought iron. Seven or eight men, bulging with thick muscle and golden beards, surrounded the two woman instantly.

Elsa dropped the woman from her hold. The woman landed on her elbow, rolled to her side, and lifted herself off the ground. Elsa raised her arms slowly in the air, and stood up.

"She's gorgeous," said one of the men, a huge battle axe resting upon his shoulder.

"Yeah, sure is," said another man, "she'll be _fun_ to play with."

"Are you kidding me?" said the previous man, swinging his battle axe into motion, "this is not a woman you _play_ with, this is a woman you _marry_."

"Are you part of the Majesty's Mourners? Elsa asked, ignoring the conversation.

"She knows us," said the woman who had held the knife to Elsa's neck, "how?"

Another man, completely bad except for a massive, braided beard, stepped forward.

"Who knows, but it's a good thing for us, because that means we've got a reputation now," he said, his eyes scanning Elsa hungrily, "and it's a bad thing for us, because that means we've got a reputation now."

"Drop your weapons," demanded Elsa, "and come peacefully."

The bandits roared with laughter, all but the woman.

"She's got courage, I'll give her that," said the largest of the bandits, a man that looked like he was a descendent of trolls.

"There are over fifty mounted soldiers of the Queen's Patrol behind me," said Elsa, standing firm but unsure, "drop your weapons now, and I will tell them to throw you into the prisons instead of having you die on this road."

The bandits no longer laughed. They became uneasy as they looked at one another, all except the woman. Elsa might not have had a threatening appearance, but sixty armored swordsmen definitely invoked fear in them.

"What should we do?" asked one of the bandits.

"Kill her and run," said the woman, sheathing her knife, "we'll be slaughtered by the Witch's Patrol."

"Right," agreed another, "but still, such a waste."

"A real shame, there's no time to play with her."

"She would've made a great wife," agreed the other bandit.

"Sorry, your knights in shining armor can't save you today," said the woman.

Two men lunged at Elsa without warning, their axes high in the air. They brought down the iron heads with all their strength at her, when suddenly the shattering roar of ice and animalistic fury charged into the fray. Elsa's steed buried its rock-hard head into one of the bandits, sending him shooting into two other bandits who had been standing idly.

"Ice demon!" shouted the other bandit, striking his axe into the horse's body.

The axe head buried itself into the ice but had no effect on the rampaging beast. The horse bucked and smashed its hind leg into the bandit. The sound of cracking bone and meat echoed off the trees as the bandit's lifeless body was thrown from the sheer impact of the kick.

"It's her!" shouted the woman, fear and hatred twisting her face, "the ice witch!"

The other bandits, realizing who their enemy was, tossed their weapons aside as they made a mad dash toward the safety of the trees. Elsa placed a single finger on the backside of the horse. It roared like a crashing glacier as chains of ice blasted out of the its body and snatched at the legs of the fleeing bandits. The bandits fell flat on their stomachs and effortlessly reeled in by Elsa.

Elsa dropped down to the bandits, who cowered under her gaze.  
>"You people will learn," she said, her voice as cold as the horse, "that I am the last person in Arendelle that needs saving."<p>

By the time Sir Leif and the other mounted swords had reached Elsa, the bandits were already nicely restrained by a thin but unbreakable rope of pure ice.

"My Queen," said Sir Leif as he dismounted, "you've outdone yourself."

Elsa nodded. A trickle of blood began to dry down her neck.

"You're hurt!" Sir Leif said, and he rushed to her.

Elsa raised her hand, causing Sir Leif to stop in his tracks.

"Just a nick," said Elsa, who sounded sad and tired, "take these bandits and put them in the stockades. Charge them with murder."

Men rushed to retrieve the criminals.

"Sir Leif," said Elsa, her body waning, "there are three citizens up ahead, please retrieve them as well."

Sir Leif didn't have to hear anymore.

"Men, let's take the bodies back," ordered Sir Leif.

Elsa stood by herself as the men went to work. The bandits were being led past her by a knight when Elsa grabbed the woman by her wrist.

"What did these people ever do to you?"

Elsa's eyes were of fire, peering death into the woman, who refused to meet her gaze.

"Look at me, LOOK AT ME!"

The woman rose her head, and found Elsa's glacial eyes ripping through her very soul.

"Why did they have to die? Because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time?!"  
>Elsa wanted to take the knife from the ground and stab it into the woman's uncaring face over and over again until she resembled nothing near a human being. But then, the woman's faced changed dramatically. There was no more fear, or hatred in her eyes, only hollowness.<p>

"My daughter was in the wrong place at the wrong time," said the woman, her face blank and emotionless, "a year ago she was swimming near Arendelle Harbor, the water was warmed by the summer sun. I was setting up our lunch for the day, I made her favorite meal. The harvest was going to be hard that summer, so I made sure to give my daughter the best day ever before we had go to work."

"A year ago?" asked Elsa, and the sickness jabbed at her heart again.

"It was so fast," said the woman, and in the hollowness of her eyes first came a wave of sadness, "it was like a plague from the gods. My daughter was only stomach-deep, but the ice came and froze the water solid faster than lightning strikes the earth. By the time I chipped away at the ice enough with bloodied and frostbitten hands, the cold had taken her. My baby, gone."

Elsa felt herself go numb. All the anger, all the fight, had simply vanished. The sadness dispersed from the woman's eyes, now filled with a depthless anger.

"What did _my_ daughter ever do to you, ICE WITCH?!"


	4. Chapter 4

The stale air made breathing difficult, but by this time his body had adjusted. His brown hair, once shimmering like the topaz stones found on the shores of his homeland, was now overgrown like dying grass. The flames of the torches flickered and licked the stone walls, reaping what little moisture the dark dungeon offered. In his cell, deep scratches in the wall marked how long he had been in captivity; today was to be the three-hundred and sixtieth day.

Footsteps pattered the stone ground, closing in on his cell. At first they were barely audible, similar to rain drops striking the surface of the water in a deep well. But they were coming to him, he knew, and the footsteps became louder and swelled with meaning.

Three figures cloaked in the dungeon's shadows approached the wrought iron bars. Two of them, men whose faces were covered in steel masks, were not the typical prison guards. The men who watched him on a daily basis were simple people. They tried befriending him, fearful of his power and lineage. Indeed, he suspected many thought they could come into his favor if they treated him the way they would in the streets of the capital. How many times had they smuggled fresh bread and cheese to him? Red meat, wine from the South, and Arendelle Mead?

_ Arendelle_ he thought with a pleasing anger. _My Arendelle._

The cell door opened, its iron bars screeching from the rust of the hinges.

The two armored sentries stepped aside and turned away as the third man walked between them, strolling into the cell as if it were his own chamber.

"Two Diamond Knights at your side? Are you afraid I might seek vengeance, father? I assure you, I'm in no condition to match your strength."

The man was tall and broad of shoulder. A beard of silvery, pointed hair completely covered his chin and mouth. He wore garments of flowing blue and green silk, and a golden crown stubbed with glistening gems of every color sat perfectly upon his head.

"The King must always be guarded, or have you already forgotten your studies wallowing in this prison for less than a year? I would expect the flesh I gave you to be more resilient than that."

The king glared at his son, who remained sitting in the darkest, farthest corner of the cell.

"Why bother remembering the trivialities of the king, when I will never sit on the throne myself?"

"Your self-pity will be your doom, son. You are a disgrace, a waste of your mother's royal blood."

"Father, your compliments will get you nowhere with me. Why have you come?"

The King rolled his shoulders as if to remove a kink in his muscles.

"The young princess of Arendelle is to be wed in a fortnight. I am unable to attend due to the conflicts in the East. I have sent your brother in my stead."

"Which brother, you know I have so many."

"Zoran."

"Of course," he said, still unmoving from the corner.

"You realize that Zoran should be heading to Arendelle not for just a royal wedding, but for _your_ royal wedding?"

When he said nothing, the King continued.

"Your older brothers have all fulfilled their obligations. They have conquered our neighbors without a single sword being raised. Yet you, my youngest who proclaims he is as worthy as my other sons, had failed. What do you have to say for yourself, Prince Hans?"

Hans placed his hands on the wall and lifted himself up. He was as tall as his father, but nowhere near as broad. The King could see just the silhouette of his son, standing strong in the darkness.

"The darkness speaks, Father. I do not hold a grudge on you for imprisoning me, that is justice for my failure and I accepted it the moment you handed out my sentence," said Hans. "As for Queen Elsa, well, you could not expect me to defeat a witch with just my cunning, did you?"

"You were not supposed to defeat anyone! You were supposed to sway the Queen's heart to yours, make her love you. We Westergards have conquered with emotion, and cunning. Not by betrayal and murder."

"Is that why you have come to free me, Father? To give me a second chance and swaying Queen Elsa's heart?"

The King looked mildly surprised, but the emotion had vanished almost at once.

"Oh, don't be so suspicious, father," said Hans, "do you think your youngest son, the handsome Prince of the Southern Isles, would go a year without _important _visitors? Do you believe that I would not know that you sent my brothers to comfort me in my shame? That they would not tell me that you were forced by the Alliance of Ysiden to punish me for my transactions? But I knew, as your children all knew, that you would never have your own flesh imprisoned for very long. That is why I do not begrudge you, Father, I love you."

The King bristled but remained staunched.

"And thanks to you, Father, I have met the darkness," Hans said, "and it speaks to me."

"What do you mean by that, son?" asked the King.

Hans laughed. This drew the attention of the Diamond Knights, who turned back and stood at both sides of their King.

"Don't worry," Hans said to the knights, "I mean no one in the Southern Isles harm, especially not my father the dear King. My wrath belongs to Arendelle."

Even the king could not suppress his shock when Hans tossed a long piece of shredded rope to him. The king caught it, and examined the sinewy strands.

"Day one hundred and seventy was the day my thoughts consumed me. I made sure to tell one of the guards to find me a piece of rope, strong enough to not break should a man cling to it, but short enough so that it could be easily handled. You can guess as to why I requested it, Father. Of course, the simpleton guard had no suspicions."

The king's eyes widened.

"You didn't," said the King quietly, "that is the coward's way, and a Westergard is no coward."

"Oh but I did, and I succeeded. I knew I would be released from this prison soon and live the life of a prince. But what I could never escape would be the shame that I would have to live with for the rest of my life. I wanted eternal release, infinite sleep, but what I received was much greater than peace."

Hans took one step out of the darkness of his corner. The Diamond Knights swung their hands toward their sheathed swords, but the King rose his hand.

"Enough," he said, "my son is not about to attack me."

"You are quite right, Father," said Hans, and he stopped so that only his face was still undiscernible, "I am not your enemy, I am your weapon. You see, Father, the darkness speaks."

"What darkness, son?!" and this time the King cried out in anger and fear, "what madness has taken hold of you?!"

"Why, the darkness that found me in death. The darkness that said it was my destiny to bring terror to the North. The very darkness that brought me back, and gave me these."

Hans stepped out so that his father could finally see his face. The King stumbled back as the Diamond Knights drew their swords, each man trembling as if they faced a demon from the darkest pit of Hell.

"What, what has happened to you, son? Your eyes, what–"

"The darkness spoke to me, Father. It said 'seek your destiny in the blood of your enemies, take this curse and cast your gaze upon the world. Melt the ice of the Snow Queen with the fires of my hatred."

"Devil eyes," whispered the King in terrible fear.

"Perhaps," said Hans, his red eyes glowing, his mouth twisted in an evil grin "the darkness called them, _**Sharingan**_."


End file.
